


Let Me Take Your Hand And Dance 'Round The Flame

by thefairfleming



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/pseuds/thefairfleming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dany runs her family's company, and Jon is her assistant. They meet at a bar after hours, events ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Game of Ships Goldenships Modern AU Challenge

Daenerys has worked with Jon Snow for nearly half a year before she learns three important facts about him: One, he purposely loses pool games to his friends; two, he wears jeans better than any man she's ever seen; and three, he is a really, _really_ good kisser.

               It's this last fact that should unnerve her. Not his kissing skills per se, but that she now knows firsthand just how skilled he is.

               But as Dany leans against the wall in the shadowy hallway at the back of the bar she feels anything but unnerved. Electrified, turned on, giddy...

               His hands are under her shirt, skimming along the hot skin at the small of her back, stroking her ribs, raising goose bumps despite the mugginess of the bar. Her own hands lay against Jon's jaw, his beard a soft prickle under her palms.

               Anyone could walk back here and see them, but Jon kisses her as though they're completely secluded. There's no rush in the lazy slide of his lips against hers, no real sense of urgency, and Daenerys is pretty sure she's never wanted anyone more in her life. There's something in the way his tongue tangles with her own that makes her tingle all the way down to her toes, and she has no idea how something as simple as making out can feel this dirty.

               Nothing about him at the office suggested that he would kiss like... _this_. There, he seems so buttoned up, so proper and stiff, almost shy. That's probably why Dany hadn't even recognized him at first. She'd noticed the group of guys at the pool tables near the back when she and Irri had first come in, but it wasn't until he'd walked up to the bar and Irri had nudged her shoulder with muttered, " _Hello,_ " that Daenerys has realized the hot guy in the Henley and jeans was Jon Snow.

               Jon, the man she worked with twelve hours a day, five days a week.

               Jon, who could've easily taken a higher position within her family's company, but who had, for some reason, settled for being her assistant.

               Jon, who always remembered she liked her coffee scalding and that she preferred cheap ballpoint pens to the expensive ones her father and brothers had liked, but hardly ever said her name.

               When Daenerys had told Irri just who it was she was ogling, her friend's dark eyes had gone wide. " _That's_ Boy Friday?"

               Dany had stabbed the lime at the bottom of her vodka tonic with her straw. "Don't call him that."

               But Irri had just continued to stare at Jon, shaking her head slightly. "It's just...from the way you described him, I pictured a kid. Some grad student borrowing his dad's suit."    

               "I never said he was a kid," Dany answered defensively, but as she'd watched Jon move back to his buddies, a couple of beers in each hand, she'd had to admit that outside of work, wearing normal clothes, he looked a lot different. Older.

               And later, when their gazes had met across the bar, she'd wondered if she'd looked different to him, too. She'd seen the way his eyes had skated over her, taking in her own jeans and tight black t-shirt, her hair loose around her face. She never wore it down at work, afraid it would make her seem  girlish and immature. But there in the smoky bar, Jon Snow's eyes hot on her, she'd actually kind of liked feeling a little girlish.

               When he'd come over, Dany had found herself sitting up a little straighter, fighting the urge to fidget with her drink.

               But then he'd braced his hands on the table and quietly asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

               It was such an unexpected question that Dany had just blinked at him.

               "Why would we want that?" Irri had asked, leaning in closer.

               But Jon barely glanced at her, keeping his gaze on Daenerys. "Just...if you wanted to blow off steam and feel weird having an underling around...,"

               She'd laughed then, the sound a little forced. "You're not exactly an 'underling,' and besides, we're off the clock." Dany had no idea what had possessed her, but then she'd added, "We can just pretend to be different people tonight."

               Something had sparked in his eyes and Dany had felt an answering pulse between her thighs. And then he'd smiled and said, "In that case, can I get you ladies a drink?"

               He'd gotten them several, and after that, she and Irri had found themselves at the pool table with Jon and his friends, laughing, drinking, bumming smokes from the boys. And if Dany's stomach had jumped pleasantly when Jon lit a cigarette for her, so what? And if, when they made another trip to the bar, his hand rested lightly low on her back, was that really such a bad thing?

               But those were little things, harmless flirtations.

               Letting him kiss her like this? It feels a lot less harmless. It also feels so fucking good she isn't sure she can stop.

               "Come home with me," he breathes against her ear, and Dany shivers.

               "I can't," she pants, arching up against him. There's a company policy against "fraternization" between employees, although when Jon's hand skims her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast, she almost wants to laugh at such a priggish word being applied to what they're doing here in the back of this bar.

               But it's not the policy that's keeping her from going home with him.  

               "I like you," she tells him, her voice dreamy as he begins to kiss her neck, lips sliding over her pulse point. She can feel him chuckle as he presses closer.

               "Good."

               "I mean it." Somehow, Dany's hand has found its way into his hair, and she lets her fingers tangle in his dark curls. Barristan is always muttering that she should ask Jon to cut his hair and maybe shave every once and awhile, and Dany hadn't realized until just now why she'd never done that.

               "You're smart," she tells him, closing her eyes, letting her head tip back. "And loyal. And you make the _best_ coffee, seriously."

               Another laugh, and Jon lifts his head to look at her, his eyes hooded, pupils wide. "I have all kinds of skills."

               Smiling, laughing, kissing, and now suggestive jokes? Dany is beginning to think Jon might be an entirely different person tonight, after all. And just for a moment, it's the most tempting idea in the world to pretend they _are_ different, that she can go home with him tonight, and it won't make things awkward tomorrow morning when he's back to taking notes for her, arranging her schedule, reminding her of appointments.

               But they're not different people, and with a sigh of regret, Dany lets her leg drop from his hip and straightens up. She keeps her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly when she says, "I'm good at my job, I know that. But when it comes to guys, I've...I've fucked up a lot, Jon."

               She can tell he's about to say something, but she raises up on tiptoes and kisses him again, softly, almost chastely. "I like you," she repeats as she sinks back to her feet, "And that means you can't be another fuck up for me. I just...I need this- _us_ \- to be un-fucked up, okay?"

               Dany waits for him to argue or cajole, to make a joke about some fuck-ups being worth making. But instead, he searches her face, and she fights the urge to sigh when he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay," is all he says, and Dany makes herself walk out of his arms and back out into the bar before she does something truly stupid like changing her mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

It isn’t until she’s unlocked the bright red door of her childhood home that Dany considers the idea that _maybe_ this is a mistake.

Making out with him at the bar had been one thing. She’d been kind of drunk, they were outside of work, and clearly, a mutual curiosity had demanded satisfaction. And she’d been able to rationalize that night in her office by reminding herself that she’d been really stressed, it was Jon’s job to make her life easier, and really, when you thought about it, was having someone go down on you _that_ much different than getting a massage? (It was, but Daenerys was trying not to focus on that too much.)

And then there’d been tonight, tucked into the back of her car, the partition up between them and her driver, the rain pattering on the roof as though they were the only two people in the world…. In  the car, she’d been balancing on the edge of coming, desperate to do anything that meant he wouldn’t stop, and having the driver take them out to the house in the country had seemed like the perfect plan. It was a long drive, after all, and in that moment, she’d wanted them locked in the backseat of her limo for as long as possible.

But now, opening the door of the cottage, letting him follow her inside, things feel…real

 The house is dark, but she knows the power has been left on, and Dany goes to reach for the light switch, hoping the bright glow of fluorescent bulbs will clear her head a little, but before she can, Jon’s arms are around his waist, his lips at her ear.

She can feel him, hard against her ass, but rather than kiss her or inquire where the bedroom is, he simply asks, “This is where you grew up?”

The cottage in the country is more than that. It’s the only place she’s ever felt safe, the place she thinks of whenever anyone asks where her home is. And as crazy as it seems, she thinks maybe Jon Snow understands.

Nodding, she lays her hands over his, simply humming, “Mmm,” in reply.

“It’s not what I expected.”

His breath ruffles her hair, and Daenerys turns in his arms, raising her eyebrows. "What did you expect?”  
  


In the dim light, his bowtie hanging undone, his shirt collar open several buttons, he looks disheveled and gorgeous and so achingly right there in her kitchen that Dany once again wonders if she’s done a stupid thing, bringing him here.

But then he grins, his teeth a flash of white in his tanned face. “I don’t know. Something out of _The Great Gatsby._ Big pile of bricks and decadence, maybe a fountain out front…,”

Laughing softly, Dany raises up on tiptoes to kiss him. He still tastes like her, and she finds that is much more of a turn on than she’d ever thought it would be. She lets her tongue drift across his bottom lip, smiling when he groans and drops his hands to her hips, pulling her up hard against him.

They kiss for a long time there by the refrigerator, Dany’s hands exploring the muscles of his back, Jon’s grip moving from her hips to her jaw, cradling her face so gently that it makes her feel things she’d never thought to feel again. Things too big for an office fling.

God, if she were smart, she’d kiss him for a bit more, maybe give him a tour of the house, and then call the driver to come get them. She’d drop Jon back off at his rather dingy apartment, go back to her own town house, and let this end right here, before she’d actually slept with him.

Before he’d gotten anymore of her heart.

Instead, she drops her hand, linking her fingers with his and tugs him from the kitchen down the narrow hallway to her old bedroom.

It still looks like a fourteen year old girl lives there, with its lavender comforter and flower-dotted sheets, fairylights twined around the wrought iron headboard.

With a smile that hit her somewhere hard in her chest, Jon kneels down and plugs in the lights, stepping back to admire the effect as they cover the whole bed in a soft, rosy glow.

“No boy you ever brought back here stood a chance, did he?” Jon teases, looping his arms around her waist again, pulling her close until their hips bump. Again, she can feel how much he wants her, but he makes no move to take it any further.

Daenerys never brought a boy back here before. When she was a girl, she hadn’t known any boys, really, and even if she had, her brother wouldn’t have stood for it.

Some foolish part of her that still feels like a girl whispers that she was waiting for _this_ boy, for this night, but she can’t afford to think like that. Not anymore.

So Dany cuffs a hand around the back of Jon’s neck and pulls his face down to hers, murmuring, “Not a fucking chance indeed.”


End file.
